The Little League - TMP
by GeekyZoee
Summary: In a world where The Government have taken over and have created a league of assassins aged 12 to 20, find out one boy's story. Max 145. This is the prequel to my story 'The Assassin's code' in this book you find out more about Max's story and his journey before his life in 'The Assassin's code'. Reading this story will help you understand Max as well as who Chloe is.
1. Chapter 1

I look around idly pretending to listen to 130 talking about the excitement of joining third year and nod at appropriate times but really only 147 is listening. My eyes wonder until they fix on the sign, on our school gates and they've changed it. The sign used to read 'Military Policing School' in black writing with a white background but now it is in thin white italics with a black background. Everyone just calls our school TMP now which stands for The Master's Premises but it actually stands for Military Policing School. I scoff at the irony of the word school I don't think of this place as a school, I live here, eat here, learn here and I don't remember a time that I wasn't behind these gates.

My eyes shift to my hand and staring back at me is the number 145; it's my identification as we don't use names here. It was tattooed on me the day I came here, it's my first memory that I can remember. Before being tattooed everyone went through a memory wipe some say they used a serum and injected it into all us as our first memory was feeling the pain of the tattoo and a pain in our neck. So no one has any real recollection of anything before getting their tattoo; no one remembers anything other than being behind the gates I stare at now. Though I think I do remember something; being at the back of a car, driving into the premises of the school and starring in awe. I also remember thinking that it was a boarding school, an educational holiday but it wasn't. I also thought I would see whoever was in the car with me again… but I never did. I'm not bitter about it though; I really like living here, here is all I know and all I live for but… I just wish I could remember something, anything about my life before this tattoo.

'145, what are you most excited about?' 130 asks, noticing I'm not paying attention to his speech.

'Probably… the missions or advanced combat' I reply with my voice monotone.

'I don't understand why you're upset?' 130 accuses me, 'is it because 78 left?' 78 was a girl who left the program in the 'Next Step' ceremony we had just left, in this each person decides whether to have a future instead of following the path of professional assassination. It is offered to people who have completed the program and are fully trained; I am not fully trained yet. I thought it was a shame that she decided to leave though, she had talent. She was a good friend of mine and my training partner for two years but I always had my suspicions that she would leave.

'What? Are you upset, over a peace lover!?' 147 looks at me with disgust; a 'peace lover' is a sneering nickname for people who leave the program. I think it is to do with the fact that they are against fighting and killing or just the program on a whole but I didn't think 78 was like that.

'That 'peace lover' used to be your friend as well… try and remember that' I retort bitterly; 147 annoys me sometimes, I really hate disloyalty.

'Stop bickering! We can't waste our time talking about people who don't agree with The Master's plan or whatever reason 78 had for leaving' 130 rolls his eyes and continues to retell stories he's heard about what third year is like.

Our schooling process is slightly different to others, in our first year at the age of 12 we go through normal education learning 11 subjects; Maths, English, Three Sciences, Geography, History, Computing, two Languages in my case French and Spanish and lastly combat. In our second year which confusingly lasts for two years so from 13 to 15 we learn; Maths, English, one language, Computing and combat by the end of these two years we are expected to know that language fluently. Entering our third year which again is two years so from 16 to 18 we learn; Maths, another language from scratch or the second language you learnt in first year and combat. By this stage we are learning combat and enhancing our skills to the point where we can use them in real life which are the missions. Ultimately we are being trained for our final year or fourth year which is only one year, when we make the decision whether to become a full time assassin for The Government or The Master as we are instructed to call them or choose to leave and live your own life, which is highly frowned upon but allowed nevertheless.

We enter the dormitory building head towards our colour sector which we picked the first day we got here; I remember being told to pick a colour out of black, white, green, blue and orange and I picked black which decided that I was in the black sector. Little did I know that the question was a test; if you picked black it was because of the qualities you possessed before entering the program; these people tend to be favoured by The Masters because of their bravery and aggression. 130 also picked black and so did his girlfriend 147, having all the people with similar qualities in the same dormitory meant that people made friends mostly within their own sector. I enter the room I share with 130 and relax on my bed. I wonder whether our rooms would seem strange to other boys of our age, we have a black door, black bed posts with a white mattress and white bedding and a cream carpet with a black bedside lamp. If I'm honest I'm getting sick of the colour black but I would hate it a lot more if it were green or orange sectors.

'What do we have first lesson 130?' I ask wondering whether I have to put on my combat clothes or my uniform.

'Combat and then we have a free period' he replies. Combat clothes then.

'What are we going to do during the free period?'

'I was thinking we could go and see the fourth years and see what they want to do' he replied changing into his combat clothes.

'Sounds good' I take my top off and look for my combat clothes, 'what do you think combat will be like this year?'

'Well, we're going to meet the rest of the sectors' 130 rolls his eyes.

'How – er – colourful' I joke and 130 starts laughing.

'I think we all have the same combat gear so it won't be as colourful as you think, I think it's to make us look equal or something' he scoffs.

'I wonder if they'll be any good' I ask hungry for some more competition in my combat class.

'Doubt it, we have the best teachers. Everybody knows that' 130 shrugs.

'Alright, I'm done. Let's go' I tuck my white polyester t shirt with 145 embroidered on it into my black shorts, the combat rooms are fairly hot so there is never a need for trousers but there is one supplied and a long sleeve top which 130 has decided to wear today. The top clings to his body making him look really skinny, this is happens with my top as well even though I am wearing a short sleeve t shirt.

We head out of our room and the bell rings throughout the hallway which means that the lesson is about to start. 130 normally doesn't care about being late but today he runs towards the elevator at the end of our hall and repeatedly presses the button. I follow shortly behind him feeling the roughness of the carpet as we are bare foot but 130 doesn't seem to mind it. The elevator takes us to the second highest floor as the highest is for fourth years and we walk towards our combat room. The room is shiny white witch grey mats and grey dummies dotted around the room, from the corridor you can see inside the whole room perfectly as the window is glass. As suspected we are late.


	2. Chapter 2

Me and 130 bow at the combat instructor who I have never seen before and enter the classroom.

'You two are late. Why?' he asks in a stern and authoritative voice.

'Instructor, I apologise for our lateness' 130 says to the instructor, 'it won't happen again. You have my word'

The instructor nods his head looking surprised as he probably expected us to make up an excuse but 130 doesn't see the point in lying. We slot into the crowd of people, evidently we stand with our friends from the black sector but to my right is a girl from another sector – I think she's from the orange sector. Everyone in the crowd stands up straight with military precision and looks directly at the instructor as he is speaking.

'I know many of you will not know anyone from the other sectors but everyone is equal here' his eyes glance pass the black sector as we are known for being arrogant when it comes to mixing with other sectors, 'but in my class that behaviour will stop. The first stage of this combat is partner practise and you and your partner will train each other and fight one another. You will develop trust with this partner and together you will go through training with them right until the final assessment. Then you and your partner will be assessed individually on your skill level and fight another pair individually. 10 of the bravest and strongest fighters will be sent off to their first ever mission in Russia in five weeks. Understand?'

'Yes, we do Instructor' everyone replies as a collective and everyone relaxes their shoulder it is customary that after we have been briefed then we can relax.

'Today will be the start of the training' the instructor says more relaxed, he then turns around and switches on the screen behind him which reads the partners by identification, 'find your partner, find a mat and start bonding'

I read my identification 145 and next to was 150 which was a person I didn't know, meaning they are in a different sector than I am. I scanned the screen for 130 and was shocked to see his name with 147 his girlfriend whom he couldn't do any further bonding with. I rolled my eyes it was typical that I was stuck with a stranger while 130 was with his girlfriend. In my fury I almost didn't realise the girl next to me had tapped my shoulder, my reaction was slow as I around confused and looked at her. She nervously tucked her blonde hair behind her ear and looked at me with her blue eyes which were reflecting in the light.

'So, I guess I'm your partner' she shrugs indicating the screen.

'What…? Oh right, you're 150' I ask momentarily confused, 'Sorry, I'm 145'

'Err… I prefer people call me Chloe, but seeing as you're a black I suppose you'll want to call me 150' Chloe shrugs. It isn't unheard of that some of the other sectors give each other names and call them by it to give them a sense of normality. As pointed out the black sector normally doesn't follow this habit and calls everyone by their identification number.

'Okay… let's find a mat' I reply harsher than I wanted to but her casual tone of calling me 'a black' and prejudice towards me has made me resent her already. I march towards a free mat adjacent to 130's mat and 130 looks at me, notices my anger and laughs with 147.

I roll my eyes to find that they meet the eyes of Chloe and her arms are crossed which is never a good sign with girls.

'Bit of an overreaction to a name, don't you think?' her tone is sarcastic and her question didn't seem direct.

'I don't care what you call yourself' I say with hard eyes, 'just don't call me 'a black' and just assume things'

'Oh, that's your problem' she unfolds her arms and stands opposite me on the mat.

'I don't have a problem' I reply curtly.

'Okay' she smiles awkwardly and continues to say, 'you seem like a Max. I'm going to call you Max'

'I'd prefer if you didn't name me, thank you' I tousle my hair as I speak which noticeably makes her reply delayed.

'Fine… Max' she says ignoring my comment, 'what combat level are you?'

'Eleven' I reply with a smile as I know I am the only person in third year to be on eleven.

'Oh so you're the guy on eleven' she says it with a smile on her face, I assume it is a sarcastic gesture, 'well I'm on ten'

I eyebrows raise; I didn't expect her to be on ten as 130 is only just got onto nine and he is a skilled fighter. 'That's actually really good; maybe we were partnered up based on skill level' the last part was more an observation than an accusation.

'Really good…!? I'm the second highest in third year that's actually pretty impressive' Chloe scoffs at me.

'Considering you're talking to the person with the highest level in third year, really good is all you're going to get' I smirk, maybe she's not as bad as I thought. 'So, what sector are you from?'

'White' she replies with a blush, 'but I'm not a peace lover or whatever' I should have known she was in the white sector by the name giving but I didn't want to stereotype. Typically people from the white sector always leave the program, only one has ever stayed on.

'People in the white sector, never have a skill level higher than six' I laugh but stop when I realise that I'm the only one laughing.

'I thought we weren't stereotyping sectors?' she raises her eyebrow looking hurt.

'Sorry, I was just surprised' I look apologetic and add, 'maybe you are pretty impressive'

'Why thank you' she says and then a smile curves her lips. After a moment of silence Chloe smiles cunningly and says mischievously, 'so… how about we fight now?'

I smile back playfully and seductively say, 'sure, you choose the style, darling'

'So you can't call me Chloe but you can call me darling?' she laughs and then tries to compose her face, 'karate'

I am surprised at her choice but don't question it as I mould the perfect stance to start karate with one leg back and the other forward bent slightly. Her stance matches mine and she sets her fists in front of her both protecting her face. Without further warning she attacks first with a few simple punches which I dodge with ease. I assume we are practise fighting which is mostly about defence rather than attack so I return one of her punches with a harsh block.

She winced at the pain of striking the tough bone on my arm and I feel instantly guilty but she doesn't stop. She swings her leg towards my side and I return it by slashing my arm down on her leg more gently this time, she doesn't wince. I advance on her with middle blow which I stopped from giving the full impact as it would have probably knocked her straight out. My decision not to hit her had been a wrong one because it obviously made her defensive; she attacked aggressively throwing aimless punches relentlessly towards my face.

I cautioned her to stop by dropping my defensive stance and holding my hands up towards her. She ignores my surrender and spins twice towards me ending the sequence with a high kick which hit my cheek. The blow knocked me off the mat, I didn't fall to the ground but I collided with 130 on the mat behind us. I straightened my body as the heat beneath the skin of my cheek flared, I looked around the room and everyone had stopped, they were staring at Chloe in shock.

I brushed my knuckles over my cheek to feel for a bump and as I expected I would, I felt bruising about to form. I stared back at Chloe with hateful eyes; she had embarrassed me in front of the whole class trying to show off.

'Hit her back' 130 shouted at me pushing me towards her, 'how dare she hit one of us, the peace loving idiot. Hit her back and show her what a hit from a level eleven feels like'

'No… there's no point' I scowl, 'she's not worth it' I turn around trying to head out of the class but I only move one step when the Instructor is in front of me.

'What is going on over here?' the instructor looked at me with a scrutinising look suspecting the trouble would have come from me.

'Nothing, can I be excused from the last 5 minutes of this lesson' I ask the instructor clenching my jaw.

'No, no you may not' the instructor retorts, 'and you will address me as instructor. You better learn some respect, boy'

'But Instructor this girl has-' before he could finish the instructor interrupted.

'Enough' he silences 130 and looks at the rest of the class, 'continue with your bonding work. Now'

As he whipped away from us and returned to the front of the class room, I turned and looked at Chloe who had moved closer to me.

'I'm sorry, I'm really sorry' she apologised frantically; I felt her cool breath against my skin and shivered.

'Just forget it' I reply harshly and for the rest of the lesson we just practise combat on our own, not even looking at each other.


	3. Chapter 3

We walk down the corridor in silence no one seems to want to bring up what happened in our combat class which is good because I don't want to bring it up but then no one's talking which is awkward. I turn to my head to the right and catch 122 looking at my right injured cheek; his eyes look apologetic and full of sympathy. I roll my eyes but when I do, I notice that to my left 110 is looking at me with the same look; a look that makes me feel like a sick dying puppy. She's never given me this look before, I suddenly become frustrated that everyone now thinks so low of me to pity me.

'Can everyone stop looking at me as if I'm a dying puppy' I speak through a taught jaw, loud enough so that everyone walking around me can hear me as well.

130 who was walking in front of me turns around and stops close to my face staring me directly in the eye and says, 'I told you, you should have hit her back and showed the class that you are not to be fucked with'

'Hitting her would have made me looked weaker' I reply with my voice low but it doesn't quaver.

'Whatever you say' 130 continues to walk forward but then whips around to look at me but he doesn't look as confrontational as before, 'are you coming to practise with the fourth years or are you going to stand there feeling sorry for yourself?'

I clench my jaw but don't retort.

I walk briskly next to 130 hoping that the fourth years will lighten his mood and maybe mine. We're in the elevator and 130 presses the button for the floor above us and we ride up to the hum of the elevator as it lifts us. 130 steps out of the elevator not looking back, it's because he's angry with me and I know why. He thinks I've hurt the pride of the black sector and in turn hurt his pride which he wears like armour. I try to distract myself from the thoughts about the combat lesson and ask, 'So… where are the fourth years?'

'They are in their combat room, which is at the end of this hall' 130's voice is plain.

'Oh okay' I reply softly. A moment passes as we stroll down the bland grey stone corridor which is poorly lit giving a dull and chilling effect.

'Let's forget about that combat lesson, shall we?' 130 smirks as we near the end of the hall. 'I want to just enjoy this free period with you… without thinking about it'

'Good idea, I don't want to mention it either' I reply quickly as we have reached the combat room's door.

130 knocks on the combat room's door sharply, I raise my eyebrow at the roughness of the knocks but don't question it. A fourth year opens the door, 89 and at stares at us with confusion in his eyes but then realisation washes over him.

'Oh yeah, the third years were going to join us today' he said this matter-of-factly as oppose to an insult or sarcastic remark.

'It's only the two of us today' 130 replies with a strong voice, 'but don't be complacent…'

'Oh sorry tough guy' the fourth year mocks but he opens the door to let us in anyway. As we walked into the room the other fourth years in the room, all from the black sector cocked their heads in our direction for a second and then continued to watch the two fourth years fighting in the centre of the room.

The design of the combat room for the fourth years is different to ours, I thought to myself. Where ours has a long glass window stretching across the whole of the room allowing people to watch us from the hallway but from the inside it looks like a long mirror preventing us from seeing the hallway. Theirs' however, hasn't got a window at all which makes the room appear caged and isolated. The shape of the room as well is square and the wall is a light but dull grey colour unlike ours which is white. My eyes wonder back to the fight in the centre of the room.

I watch as these two fourth years fight; it was hard to say which one was the better fighter at first but I was mesmerised with the way they fought, it was aggressive but it wasn't rough it reminded me of a dance.

One of the fourth years I think his identification is – 96 but I've never seen him before. He throws powerful punches towards 72 but they are all dodged or returned with blocks. Every so often 96 will manage to slightly hit 72 and the impact is responded with 'ooos' and 'ahhs' from the fourth years until eventually 96 swings his fist and actually gets a good hit on 72 which causes him to fall to the ground, hard. Knock Out.

96 bows out of respect and symbolism for the ending of the game and grips 72's shoulder to help lift him up from the ground. 72 is winded so breathes at an unsteady rate but he clenches his jaw and doesn't show any pain. I feel a sense of awe and pride through 72's bravery and 96's professionalism; this is why I honour the black sector's fighting etiquette.

'So who is the new kid?' 96 says walking towards me.

'I'm 145, I'm in third year actually' I say trying to mimic 130's strong tone.

'Oh wait, I know you! You're on Level 11, aren't you?' 96 speaks surprised but impressed at the same time.

'Yeah' I laugh to myself, 'you say that like I'm famous'

'You are sort of famous, you're only one level below _me_' he says it with a smile on his face.

I smile proudly and reply, 'only one level? Well you're definitely a better fight than I am' my eyes wonder to 72 and back to 96.

'Don't be so modest' 130 says then moves his eyes towards 96, 'I bet he could beat you in a fight'

I feel a heat beneath my cheeks but I suppress it as the crowd of fourth years 'ooooo' at the challenge of witnessing us fight.

96 uses his thumb and finger to caress his chin as he assesses the challenge. Finally he looks to me with his hand out as if to shake my hand, 'I accept the challenge. To make it fairer, let's assess a range of combat skills. How does that sound?'

I shake his hand firmly and he returns with a tight hand squeeze, 'How about we make this more interesting?'

'But it was already so interesting already' 50 one of the fourth years in the crowd jeers.

'How about a wager for this bet' I suggest still holding 96's hand tight.

'I like it! How about, if I win you will buy me a tattoo and if you win I will buy you a tattoo?' 96 suggests, 'I've been meaning to buy a tattoo anyway'

'Now you can get it for free?' 57 laughs at his own joke loudly.

'I wouldn't be too sure' 130 snaps back, 'one of the skills tested should be aim and I know 145 is good at that'

'Alright then' 96 doesn't look phased, maybe he's got a good aim as well. I wish 130 would stop boasting. 'As long as one of the skills tested is also hand to hand combat' 96 uses his free hand to caress my injured cheek but the gesture is sinister, '…he's obviously not good at that'

The crowd laughs and whisper amongst each other as my cheeks flush a bright shade of red, I can feel it. I look to 130 and he is nearly shaking with rage but to my surprise bursts out in laughter as well but his laugh is considerably louder than the others so their laughter dies down quicker. They all look at 130 dumbfounded at why he is laughing so loudly even after the crowd has stopped laughing.

'You think he got that doing hand to hand combat?' 130 laughs uncontrollably and then has to recover himself before saying, 'it was his girlfriend – well ex-girlfriend after she found out that she found out he was after somebody else. Girls here are dangerous. Nobody even saw her swing the punch until it had hit 145 in the face.'

I was stunned that he would lie for me like that. My lips curve into a smile, 'yeah, that bitch. It doesn't even hurt'

'Well let's hope you can handle your punches, unlike the way you handle your women' 96 jeers but he wears a friendly smile.

I laugh in response.

'That's two, we need one more then… which is more neutral' 50 suggests.

There is a moment of silence until the fourth year that opened the door for 130 and me, 89 walks over towards the weaponry cupboard. He opens it and brings out something which reflects light into my eyes when he lowers it; I see that it is a Samurai Sword. I have read about them before so I know what they're called but I have never used one before.

'A Samurai Sword' I gasp surprised.

'I've never used one before' 96's eyebrows furrow in worry, 'we haven't had that lesson yet and neither has 145'

'That's why it'll be perfect' he grips the sword with two hands as required for a Japanese sword, circles it above his head and sweeps it down beside him. 'That's what they do in the comics anyway' he smiles, the sword in his hand shines light onto his black hair which matches his Asian features.

'Then, it's settled' I say and release my grip from 96, my hand is red and sweaty but I'm determined to win.

I have to.


	4. Chapter 4

I squeeze my toes against the mat and hold my stare on 96, I'm trying to at least feel confident or feel any kind of adrenaline in my veins but I don't feel anything. Usually I would have fresh adrenaline flowing throw my veins but… what happened with Chloe has obviously affected me more than I'd like to admit. I bite my lip nervously as the fourth years crowd around the centre mat. 130 sits next to 89 and he gives me a nod which I translate into encouragement, I don't know why he believes in me.

'Alright, let's start this thing' 96 pesters, agitated with free adrenaline.

At that we bow at each other and then at the crowd, showing etiquette for each other and the people around us. I try to piece together my scattered mind and thinking, 96 is an attacker and I know his good punch knocked out 72 so I must at all costs dodge him punches.

The match starts. 96 edges closer to me with his fists high protecting his face like mine, he goes in for a punch but luckily I dodge it. Missing one punch doesn't stop him from administrating a further two blows into my body. Ouch. In a reflex action I try to hook the back of his leg but my foot only feels the hard texture of his calf muscle. His leg doesn't quaver when hit but in return raises to try and kick my face. I dodge it and swiftly move to the other end of the mat to temporarily avoid the scuffle.

The space from the opposite end of the mat gives me an advantage but not for long as 96 advances and aims his punches towards my head. I dodge his punch by ducking and sending a blow to his stomach. The punch causes him to blow out the air in his lungs. I've figured out a weakness and I return with a further four punches to the stomach until he swiftly moves out of my sight to regain his breath.

I turn around to face him and before I completely turn, his fist is inches away from my head. I block the hit letting my forearm receive the blow. I can feel my forearm scorch with pain but I keep my face strong. Without time to recover 96 sends a flying kick to my waist, I can't dodge it in time. The crowd suck in air as they imagine feeling the pain I feel right now with that blow.

I've got to be brave.

I swing for his head but my move is quickly blocked. I try another but that is met with a dodge and 96 moves to another corner of the mat. My body starts to heat and my back beads with sweat.

96 flies towards me and before I know it, he had sent a punch behind my guarding hands and had hit my head. The knock blurs my vision momentarily as I stumble backwards. 96 sends another punch to my head and it's so hard, it should have knocked me unconscious. One hit similar to that one sent 72 straight to the ground… but not me?

My vision is hazy and my fists are shaking but they are still raised high.

I think I can hear the crowd asking why I am not falling down but I don't know the answer to that question either.

96 seems to vacillate before continuing to fight me, he throws a strong hard blow to my chest but I'm still standing.

I reply weakly with punches and kicks but every hit from 96 seems to make me deteriorate more and more.

I don't remember how the fight ended but I remember just seeing a blurry image of 96 then seeing nothing.

I blink my eyes to clear my vision and 130 looks at me wearing a face of pride which is confusing because I lost the match. I look behind him and the fourth years are standing behind him with smiles on their faces and looks of pride.

'Why are you looking at me like that? I lost, didn't I?' I ask rhetorically.

'You did lose, but you kept going for so long' 72 said honouring me but his words had a hint of jealousy in them.

'Normally one punch and I've knocked someone out' 96 jokes but his eyes looked pained at the fact, 'but you were a hard bastard to get down' 96 had a huge bruise on the side of his head and on his chest which was bare. If that was what he looked like, I must look like a squashed pulp.

'How did you get that bruise?' I think back to the fight and I don't remember hitting him in the face.

'You did it' 96 rubbed his cheeks, 'after I hit you, out of nowhere one of your punches caught my cheek. Kind of matches yours'

I laugh and so does everyone else even 130 who didn't seem to want to laugh about it before. I stood up and my body ached and I winced at the intensity of the pain but I could walk with only a faint limp. I walked towards the mirror on the cupboard and looked at myself. 130 followed behind me with his hand on my shoulder to support me and I suppose ton congratulate me.

I stand in front of the mirror and I can see where the pain is coming from.

'It may look bad but I don't feel that bad' I lie weakly feeling a new bruise over the previous bruise that Chloe gave me.

'You got off easy' 130 whispered, '96's punches has sent someone to the hospital floor for two weeks and here you are walking after taking about 20. I'm proud even if you don't complete the other challenges, you have done so well'

I smile at 130's kind words and examine my wounds which now don't seem like much now. I start with my face and I have a completely red cheek and I can feel a lump on the back of my head my head. I start to take off my t shirt but it hurts to raise it over my head so 130 helps me. I whisper a thank you and again examine my body again. I have a few patches of reddening which will turn into a bruise later I suspect. My shoulder hurts although there isn't any reddening there and the pain in my hands has turned into a dull ache. Lastly I examine my ankles; the left ankle has a patch of redness and swelling which probably caused the limp.

I smile at the bruises which I'm sure must make me seem crazy but although I look pained and bruised I finally feel that adrenaline pumping in my veins.

'On to the next skill test, shall we 96?' I ask with a smile on my face.

'Are you sure?' 89 asks confused at why I would still wish to carry on.

'Positive' I smirk then raise my eyebrow, 'how about you 96?'

'I'm ready' 96 smiles and jumps up, hungry for more competition.

'What type of aim are we testing? Knife throwing? How about archery? Or gun fire?' I ask suggestively wearing a cunning smile.

'How about you decide' 96 smiles standing next to the weapon cupboard; seizing up a knife in his hand.

I don't know where this confidence has come from but I just go with it, 'I quite like archery but gun fire is good and there's always knife throwing… my favourite'

The fourth years 'oooo' at my cocksure attitude and whisper amongst themselves which one they think we should do.

'Just do archery' 130 suggests seeming bored with the fighting talk.

'Alright then' I shrug seeming indifferent but archery is secretly my favourite.

96 stands about 2 metres away from me as we stand a distance from the targets with our bow and arrow at hand. I look towards 96 and the way he holds his archery is quite awkward and I suddenly get the feeling he isn't particularly good at archery.

He lifts up his bow and pulls back the arrow inside of it; he hesitates before releasing it but when he does he gets the arrow in the third ring which isn't bad. He looks towards me indicating that it was my turn; I nod back at him and look towards the target.

There are five rings and the closer they are to the centre the narrower they get. In practise I normally always get the centre two rings. I lift up my bow and pull back on the arrow then take a breath before sending it plummeting into the centre ring. The crowd cheer and 130 has a smile on his face which is warm.

96's jaw is taught as he hastily retracts the arrow in his bow and releases it in the second ring which teeters near the ring in the centre. 96 smiles as the crowd cheers for his shot and I nod my head as well.

I look at my target and raise the bow to my chest, pull the arrow back, breathe out and release the arrow into the centre ring but it landed fairly close to the second ring. Not my best shot. The crowd cheer and talk amongst themselves; I block out their chatter and look towards 96 indicating his turn.

96 seems calmer now and pulls back his arrow slowly this time, breathes then releases the arrow into the centre ring. He seems to have copied my tactic but it paid off. The crowd cheer but quickly die down as I block them out. Suddenly I feel as if it just me and the target. My eyes narrow and draw back the last arrow. I take a breath and smile as I release the arrow into the dead centre of the circle.

The crowd applaud and cheer for me but… I look towards 96 and he was gripping a knife in his hand sinisterly. I don't know why he did it but he threw the knife towards his target and it hit the dead centre, like mine. His aim was perfect with a knife.


	5. Chapter 5

It is nearly the end of the free period so it is likely that our next fight will run into lunch time which could get us in to trouble.

'We haven't go long, let's do the Samurai Sword fight now' I say standing next to 96 who had just come back into the room; he left for a few minutes, I suspect to calm down.

'We don't even know how to fight with them… this is going to be interesting' 96 states with sarcasm on the word 'interesting'.

'Just hold the sword with two hands and do it' 130 rolls his eyes as he is stating the obvious.

'So how does this end, with one of us dead?' 96 snaps back at 130.

'No… no not at all' I dismiss the idea, 'I'm sure we'll just know when it's over and the other person has won'

'If you say so' 96 sweeps over to the weaponry cupboard and his eyes gleam at the long but thin blade of the Samurai Sword.

'This type is called Katana because it requires two hands to hold it' 89 hands me the Katana and my eyes widen with excitement.

'Wow' I hold the sword in my hand, 'it surprisingly light'

'But very sharp' 89 lightly scrapes his finger over the tip of the blade when he lifts his finger towards me a think line of blood is falling from the tip of his finger.

If 89 was trying to scare me I mustn't be intimidated by it although it did worry me a bit considering I'm already bruised.

'Let's start' I look at 96, 'shall we?'

It wasn't until I reached the mat that I realised I wasn't wearing a shirt and neither was 96; more flesh for 96 to cut, I sigh.

No. I can do this.

96 raises his sword and holds it diagonally across his body, he grips the sword awkwardly but his eyes are steady giving the impression he knows what he's doing. I of course know he doesn't and neither do I. I position the sword away from my body diagonally across my body and without any warning 96 arcs his sword into my chest.

I jump back but not quick enough as the tip of the sword cuts my chest, my body tenses at the gentle but painful touch of the Katana. I sweep my sword into his side but he blocks my attack with his sword making a loud sound upon contact. The lightness and swiftness of the sword seemed to work in both our favours as we both attacked causing a high pitched clinging sound to ring around the room.

The more we fought the better we both seemed to get, we were teaching ourselves the other's weak spots and using it against them. 96 had left a few cuts on me and I had a few on him, both they were mostly around the waist and chest, no real damage.

Until I retreated a few steps, circled the sword above my head like 89 demonstrated earlier and sliced at 96's shoulder. The crowd was silent. The pain he felt was obvious as he cried out but held a grip his sword so tight his hands started to flush a dark red.

96's next attacks were fierce but I was defending then with ease and leaving more cuts in his skin. I suddenly thought about what 96 has said earlier about this fight not having an ending and my eyes flick towards the clock. There is 30 seconds until the end of the free period. My eyes narrow and I hold a stare with 96; his stare is strong but I know his body is weak like mine.

I conjure all the energy I have left in me and swing my sword against his but this time I knock the sword out of his hand. I have to finish this. I retract my sword and push it into 96's skin just below his ribs, not enough pressure to actually hurt him but just enough to break the skin and he drops to his knees. 96 shakes as his hand grasp my sword but I push the sword in a little deeper until his face goes red and his body relaxes giving up. I jerk my hand backwards and position the sword as I did at the start diagonally across my body.

The crowd screams in appreciation as the school rings sharply in our ears sounding the start of lunch.

We stood outside the tattoo and piercing parlour which is above the cafeteria, 130 advised me to eat after I get the tattoo but it didn't help that he was demolishing a baguette in front of me while he said it.

'I don't even know what I want' I shrug, 'I've never got a tattoo before'

'I have' 96 says crunching an apple as he speaks, 'it's not really painful. You better make it a good one seeing as I'm paying for it'

We don't use actual money to pay for things here as the outside world do; we don't earn any actual money and we have very little use for it really. Instead we each have cards with points on them, you gain points by passing combat levels and through training – they can be awarded by an Instructor in a class and by completing missions. That gains the most points. As points are only earned through combat and combat related work; only people who are the best at these things tend to get any points. Although, the Government aren't cruel they give us a monthly top up of 50 points but that's only just enough to live on.

Points can be used to buy clothes, extra food other than our three required meals a day, tattoo, piercings or have your hair cut other than the standard optional haircut every three months but most of the time that is not enough. The Government says that this way we'll work harder to get the extra things and they're right because it is considered an honour to have a piercing or tattoo or new clothes. I have enough points to have anything I want and I've got a piercing on my eyebrow and a large number of new clothes but I don't work for the points, I work for the achievement.

'I think I want that one' I point at the tattoo of a Samurai Sword with a Cobra snake wrapped around it. Both a snake and the Samurai Sword are lethal but in different ways.

'Nice choice' the tattooist said getting his equipment ready, 'I call it the two deadly ends'

'Fine, how many points is it?' 96 asks the tattooist impatiently.

'40 points, unless you want it to cover the whole arm then it will be double' the tattooist appeared ready to start gesturing me towards the chair.

'Half… please' I added quietly; I just want to finish quickly so I can eat, I'm so hungry. I sit down on the chair and cringe away from the needle the tattooist is holding in his hand.

'What happened to you?' the tattooist asks his voice nonchalant.

'Combat class' I lie smoothly, 'brutal stuff'

The tattooist doesn't ask any further questions probably used to seeing us in worse condition and continues with the tattoo which stings against my already bruised skin. The tattoo is done within an hour but by the end of it my stomach hurts more than my arm. I admire the tattoo in the mirror and thank the tattooist. He talked to me while doing it which I thought would affect the tattoo but it looks as good as on the paper.

'Thanks, 96' I say with a smile.

'I kind of had to do it but I'm glad you got it this way' he smiles, 'it's how I got my first tattoo'

'That's where you got the idea from' I replied while we walked to the cafeteria; my body aches so much I just try not to feel anything and ignore it.


End file.
